2 Humes Theory of Space and Time

Custom and Reason in Hume: A Kantian Reading of the First Book of the Treatise
Henry E. Allison
Print publication date: 2008 Print ISBN-13: 9780199532889 Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: Sep-08 DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199532889.001.0001
Hume's Theory of Space and Time

Henry E. Allison
DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199532889.003.0003
Abstract and Keywords

This chapter analyzes Hume's conception of space and time as orders or manners of appearing. It also discusses the deep tension between this view and the Copy Principle, and compares it with Kant's conception of space and time as forms of appearances. Although the best known and oft criticized feature of Hume's account is his claim that space and time are not infinitely divisible, with extension being composed of an aggregate of perceptual minima (coloured or tangible points) and time of discrete moments, it is argued that the philosophical significance of Hume's account lies in the forementioned feature, which is logically independent of the latter and yields a relational theory that brings his account closer to those of Leibniz and Kant than to other empiricists.
Keywords: Copy Principle, form of appearances, manner of appearing, perceptual minima, space, time, Leibniz
Until recently, the critical reaction to Hume's account of space and time in the Treatise has been decidedly negative. 1 Although useful discussions of the historical context of Hume's account were provided by earlier scholars, these did little to generate philosophical interest in the views themselves. 2 Accordingly, this aspect of Hume's thought is often passed over completely in what purport to be analyses of the central topics in his epistemology. 3 Epitomizing this dismissive response is the remark of C. D. Broad that [T]here seems to me to be nothing whatever in Hume's doctrine of space
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except a great deal of ingenuity wasted in recommending and defending palpable nonsense. 4 And by way of explanation and partial exoneration, it is sometimes pointed out that this is the work of the young Hume and is largely superseded by the mature doctrine of the Enquiry. 5 Although there are numerous reasons for this reaction, including the inherent obscurity of Hume's account and his view of geometry as an empirical science, I believe that the main reason lies in Hume's focus on the archaic issue of infinite divisibility, which led him, as it did Berkeley before him, to conclude that space, which he equated with extension, is composed of non extended points (visible or tangible minima). 6 Nevertheless, the critique of the doctrine of infinite divisibility and its replacement with a theory of perceptual minima does not exhaust Hume's account of space and it plays only a subsidiary role in his treatment of time. Rather, what turns out to be central is Hume's account of space and time as manners or orders of the appearing, which suggests an interesting comparison with Kant's view of space and time as forms of appearances. Thus, while not attempting to deny or explain away the underlying problems with the doctrine of perceptual minima, I shall here focus mainly on the abovementioned and relatively neglected aspect of Hume's account, which amounts to a kind of relational theory that one might tend to associate with a rationalist rather than an empiricist. The chapter is divided into four parts. The first analyzes Hume's account of the ideas of space and time as orders or manners of the appearing. The second takes up the issue of the compatibility of this account with the Copy Principle. The third compares Hume's account of space and time with Kant's and explores the similarities as well as the differences. The fourth responds to the charge that Kant failed to answer Hume's argument against infinite divisibility in the antithesis to the Second Antinomy.
(p. 39 )
I
Hume gives a clear statement of the overall structure of his argument, when, as a prelude to dealing with objections, he describes his twopart system concerning space and time. The first part (which reflects the finitistic arguments of T 1.2.12) consists of a chain of reasoning from the premise that the mind has a merely finite capacity. Hume reiterates his thesis that it follows from this that our ideas of extension and duration must consist of a finite number of indivisible parts, from which he concludes that it is possible for space and time to exist conformable to this idea. And if this be possible,
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Hume further claims that 'tis certain they actually do exist conformable to it; since their infinite divisibility is utterly impossible and contradictory (T 1.2.4.1; SBN 39). Given this result, the second part of the system, which Hume presents as a consequence of the first, maintains that The ideas of space and time are ... no separate or distinct ideas, but merely those of the manner or order in which objects exist (T 1.2.4.2; SBN 3940). Although my focus shall be on the second part of this system, it will be convenient to begin with the consideration of an objection, which Hume himself poses and is directed to the relation between its two parts. Assuming the voice of a critic, Hume notes: It has often been maintain'd in the schools, that extension must be divisible, in infinitum, because the system of mathematical points is absurd; and that system is absurd, because a mathematical point is a nonentity, and consequently can never by its conjunction with others form a real existence (T 1.2.4.3; SBN 40). This is basically a reiteration of Bayle's thesis that the doctrine of infinite divisibility derives its whole force from the absurdity of its assumed alternatives. Consequently, the critic whom Hume is addressing at this point is Bayle, and the objection takes the form of a reminder that because of the dialectical nature of the argument for infinite divisibility, it is futile to draw any positive conclusions from its rejection. Instead, so the objection goes, the proper response (p. 40 ) is a total skepticism regarding the composition of the continuum, which is just Bayle's position. 7 Hume admits that this conclusion would be unavoidable, were there no medium betwixt the infinite divisibility of matter, and the nonentity of mathematical points; but he rejects this conclusion by offering his own account as just such a medium. Somewhat confusingly, however, he presents his alternative as a variation on the system of mathematical points, namely, such points considered as possessing color or solidity. And, after dismissing another possible alternative, that of physical points, as too absurd to need a refutation, since it assumes a real extension without parts, he concludes that the absurdity of both the extremes is a demonstration of the truth and reality of this medium (T 1.2.4.3; SBN 40). Hume's strategy here is noteworthy because of its contrast with his more familiar procedure of presenting sceptical challenges to entrenched philosophical views. 8 Instead of offering such a challenge, he proposes a nonsceptical solution to Bayle's sceptical critique by introducing a hitherto neglected alternative. Whereas the latter had assumed that there were only three possible positions regarding the composition of the continuum (infinite
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divisibility, mathematical, and physical points), Hume suggests a fourth option, or at least an alternative version of the second (colored or tangible mathematical points). 9 This is a bold move on Hume's part, inasmuch as it requires showing that his view is both distinct from and not subject to the objections raised against the other alternatives. At least at first glance, however, it does not seem very promising. The problem is that in order to escape the alleged absurdity of physical points, which, qua physical, would be divisible, Hume affirms the reality of nonextended but colored or tangible points, that is, perceptual minima. But this, in turn, opens him up to the obvious objection, already insisted upon by Bayle, that several nonentities of extension joined together will never make up an extension. 10 Since he was certainly aware of the problem, it is somewhat surprising that Hume does not discuss it at any length. As the above account suggests, his basic position seems to be that it is adequately addressed by insisting on the color or tangibility of the points. Apparently, the idea is that this assures the reality of these points against the hypothesis of mathematical points without compromising their indivisibility, which is lost in the system of physical points. 11 Moreover, it is the reality of these points that enables a plurality of them to constitute, by aggregation, a determinate line, area, or volume, even though each point by itself is extensionless. 12 Needless to say, this account of extension has not been well received in the literature. In particular, it is unclear how the attribution of color or tangibility (p. 41 ) to these points makes the difference on which Hume insists and provides the basis for an answer to the classical objection against mathematical points. For whatever nonextensive qualities these points may possess, as far as extension is concerned, it still seems like an attempt to make something out of nothing. In the case of the tangible, this problem does not arise, but we are there confronted with the opposite problem of how something tangible could be extensionless. Nevertheless, without trying to minimize these difficulties, it must be emphasized that there is more to Hume's account of extension than this simple aggregational picture suggests. In fact, what has been omitted so far is the central feature of his account of the ideas of space and time, namely, that they are constituted by an order or disposition (not simply an aggregate) of points. In short, Hume advances a relational view, where (in the case of space) the relata are these colored or tangible points, which possess intensive but not extensive, magnitude. 13 Correlatively, in the
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case of time, which we shall consider in more detail in the next section, the relata are all perceptions and the idea concerns their successive manner of appearing. Hume gives an indication of the complexity of his position later in the Treatise in the context of his discussion of the immateriality of the soul. Although he rejects the views of both materialists and immaterialists, the portion of Hume's analysis that interests us here concerns his insistence (against the materialist) on the nonextendedness of all impressions other than those of sight and touch. Considering a desire as an example of such a nonextended impression, Hume remarks (by way of demonstrating the absurdity of the supposition) that [I]n that case twou'd be possible, by the addition of others, to make two, three, four desires, and these dispo'd and situated in such a manner, as to have a determinate length, breadth and thickness' (T 1.4.5.9; SBN 235). The first part of the remark suggests that extension is simply a matter of aggregation and that the absurdity consists in the assumption that desires could be aggregated in that manner, thereby attaining what no single desire possesses, namely, a determinate extension. The final part, however, indicates that it is rather as the result of being dispos'd and situated in a certain manner, that the points constitute a determinate length, breadth and thickness. In other words, extension, including its three dimensionality, is constituted by the order or arrangement of the aggregated points, not simply by their aggregation. The immediate problem is that whereas the order or arrangement of the parts can easily explain shape or configuration (in all three dimensions) and situation, it seems much more difficult to understand how it could explain size or distance. In fact, this is a general problem for relational theories of space, (p. 42 ) which Clarke had raised against Leibniz. 14 Unfortunately, Hume fails to discuss the problem in these terms; but it does appear from a consideration of the resources available to him that he must fall back on sheer aggregation. In other words, he seems committed to the view that both the size of an object and the distance between two or more objects are determined by the number of the colored or tangible but extensionless points. But, with this we seem to be back to the problem with which we began, namely, how to generate a determinate extension from extensionless points. In addressing this question, I shall borrow a suggestion from C. D. Broad concerning Hume's understanding of contiguity. The significance of Hume's
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treatment of this concept for his views on extension is nicely illustrated by a passage (cited by Broad), in which Hume attempts to answer the objection that, in his view, all matter would interpenetrate, since any simple and indivisible atoms that touched one another would do so completely and therefore penetrate. Against this, Hume replies that A blue and red point may surely lie contiguous without any penetration. And, continuing in the same paragraph, he asks whether one would not perceive that from the union of these points there results an object, which is compounded and divisible, and may be distinguish'd into two parts, of which each preserves its existence distinct and separate, notwithstanding its contiguity to the other? (T 1.2.4.6; SBN 41). In analyzing this response, Broad points out first that the difference of the color of the two points is irrelevant and second, and more important, that contiguity in the case of points cannot mean contact, since, as the objection to which Hume is responding insists, indivisible points (not having parts) would completely coincide with one another if they touched. Consequently, Broad suggests that the contiguity of these points must be understood in terms of an intrinsic minimum distance, such that two points cannot be nearer together than this. And, he goes on to add, Two points which were at the intrinsically minimal distance apart might be said to be contiguous. 15 Although the introduction of this idea may seem like a desperate expedient, and was clearly taken as such by Broad, it appears to provide a neat solution to Hume's problem. For if we assume such a distance between contiguous points, then we can easily see how the aggregation of these points could produce an extensive magnitude, even though the points, taken singly, are extensionless. Moreover, since contiguity is a relation or, in Hume's terms, a manner in which the points are dispos'd and situated, this also provides a model for understanding how a relational theory might account for size and distance. Here the basic point is not simply that contiguous points are separated by an intrinsically minimal distance, but that the minimal nature of their separation (p. 43 ) constitutes their contiguity. In short, the relation of contiguity is a limiting case of extensive magnitude. Apart from the fact that there is no clear evidence that this reflects Hume's actual thinking, there remains the matter of the viability of the conception of an intrinsically minimal distance. Indeed, this is the target of Broad's critique and he raises three objections: (1) The conception is inconsistent with the notion of distance. (2) It is impossible, on general Humean principles to account for the idea that there is a certain distance such that no two points
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can be nearer together than this, and that any two points must be separated either by this distance or by some integral multiple of it. (3) The doctrine leads to paradoxical geometrical consequences. 16 Taking these objections in reverse order, the third can be quickly set aside on the grounds that Hume would readily admit the charge but deny its force. As we shall see in the next chapter, he fully acknowledges that his account of geometry has certain consequences that are contrary to the standard view; but he defends it as necessary in order to avoid the true paradoxes generated by the doctrine of infinite divisibility. Broad's second objection turns on the question of the kind of necessity Hume might claim for an intrinsically minimal distance, that is, for the proposition that there is a distance x, such that no distance smaller than x can be conceived. Ruling out the analytic variety (since it is not a matter of the relation between ideas), Broad concludes that, according to Hume's official theory, the proposition (and belief) must concern a matter of fact based on a uniform past experience. But since (as Hume himself admits) we are seldom, if ever, capable of discriminating individual points, which would be required in order to be aware of this minimal distance, it cannot be the latter either. 17 I believe that this line of objection reflects a level confusion on Broad's part. The question is not whether there is an ordinary belief in something like an intrinsically minimal distance (Hume has no need to assume this any more than in the case of the other minima), but whether there is an experiential basis for incorporating such a conception into a science of human nature. And here Hume would be in a position to appeal to experiments such as the disappearing impression of the ink spot he used to support the doctrine of a minimum visibile. 18 This is not to defend Hume's position on this matter, but merely to suggest that introducing the conception of an intrinsically minimal distance need not create any new problems for him, since it would simply be a matter of another kind of perceptual minimum determined by the recognitional capacities of human beings. At first glance, the first objection appears more serious, since there does seem to be something incoherent in the notion of an intrinsically minimal distance. (p. 44 ) After all, may not any determinate distance, no matter how small, be conceived as divisible ad infinitum? And does this not preclude the very possibility of an intrinsically minimal distance? So formulated, however, it becomes clear that this likewise is not a new problem, but merely the old problem of a minimal size applied to distance. In short, if the notion of
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perceptual minima is coherent, then so is that of an intrinsically minimal distance and vice versa. What this shows, I think, is that, while Broad's objections point to real difficulties in Hume's account, they are not new difficulties, above and beyond those connected with his radically finitistic position. Accordingly, given this position, Hume could well have appealed to the conception of an intrinsically minimal distance in support of his system of colored or tangible points as a distinct and viable alternative to the three views on the composition of the continuum offered by Bayle. Moreover, in closing this section, I wish to point out that Hume's conception of space and time as manners or orders of appearings is not dependent upon his thesis that the relata are perceptual minima or aggregates thereof. A case in point is Leibniz, for whom space is an order of coexisting phenomena, while these phenomena (and extension) are themselves infinitely divisible. 19
II
Emphasizing the relational nature of Hume's doctrine of space and time brings to the fore the problem of its compatibility with the Copy Principle. This might not be an important issue, save for the fact that Hume insists upon their connection. Indeed, he states that his intent is to apply this principle in order to discover farther the nature of our ideas of space and time (T 1.2.3.1; SBN 33). And, in an attempt to illustrate this application, he suggests that it is essentially a matter of looking. As he initially puts it, Upon opening my eyes, and turning them to the surrounding objects, I perceive many visible bodies; and upon shutting them again, and considering the distance betwixt these bodies, I acquire the idea of extension (T 1.2.3.2; SBN 33). This suggests that the application of the Copy Principle to the ideas of space and time is a fairly straightforward matter. Moreover, Hume reinforces this view when he remarks that since every idea is derived from an impression which is exactly similar to it, there must be some impression (of either sensation or reflection) from which the idea of extension is derived. And quickly ruling out reflection, Hume concludes that only the senses can convey to us this original impression (T 1.2.3.3; SBN 33). It soon becomes apparent, however, that the situation is more complex than these remarks suggest. In particular, there are two complicating factors. First, the ideas in question are abstract, which means that Hume must show both how ideas of particular spaces and times arise in
(p. 45 ) Page 8 of 36
experience and how they can function as universals through their connection with naming and custom. Second, it turns out that there are no distinct simple impressions to which these ideas are exactly similar. In fact, Hume later describes the impressions from which particular ideas of extension are supposedly derived as compound (T 1.2.3.15; SBN 38), thereby indicating a more complex genealogy. The latter point emerges with Hume's attempt to isolate the impression from which an idea of extension is copied through an examination of what is actually given to the mind in sense perception. To this end, he considers a representative instance of such perception, that of a table, about which he writes: The table before me is alone sufficient by its view to give me the idea of extension. This idea, then, is borrow'd from, and represents some impression, which this moment appears to the senses. But my senses convey to me only the impressions of color'd points, dispos'd in a certain manner. If the eye is sensible of any thing farther, I desire it may be pointed out to me. But if it be impossible to show any thing farther, we may conclude with certainty, that the idea of extension is nothing but a copy of these colour'd points, and of the manner of their appearance. (T 1.2.3.4; SBN 34) Although we are prepared for it by the preceding analysis, when viewed in light of Hume's seemingly commonsensical preliminary account of the origin of the idea of a distance between objects, this is surprising; for it indicates that what is actually seen is not the threedimensional object of common life (the table), but a set of colored points, dispos'd in a certain manner. This, then, constitutes the sensory data, the pure given, considered apart from any interpretation. Consequently, it must also characterize the content of the compound impression from which the idea of the table's extension is derived. The problem is to understand how the Copy Principle is supposed to apply in the case of such compound impressions, which include not simply the colored points, but also the manner in which they are dispos'd or, equivalently, the manner of their appearance. Can the latter be said to form part of the content of an impression? Moreover, the same question applies, mutatis mutandis, to Hume's account of time, which he claims arises altogether from the manner in which perceptions appear to the mind [successively] without making one of their number (T 1.2.3.10; SBN 36).
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But, before turning to that issue, it will be useful to consider Hume's account of how the mind proceeds from the particular idea that mirrors a certain disposition of colored points to the idea of space or extension in general. Hume begins by inviting the reader to suppose that the colored points from which the mind allegedly derives its idea of extension are all purple. It follows, he reasons, that with every repetition of this idea [the arrangement of purple points] the mind would not only place the points in the same order, but also bestow on them the same color. But, he continues, after experiencing points of different colors and finding a resemblance in the disposition of colour'd points of which they are compos'd, the mind is able to set aside the difference of color and form an abstract idea merely on that disposition of points, or manner of appearance, in which they agree (T 1.2.3.5; SBN 34). Hume's point, which amounts to a straightforward application of his theory of abstraction, is that, in spite of the particularity of its ideas, the mind is able to set aside differences of color and attend merely to a structural resemblance in the disposition of two or more differently colored sets of points.
(p. 46 )
As we have seen, this accords with what Hume said in T 1.1.7 regarding distinctions of reason, where his concern was to show how the mind is capable of distinguishing in thought items that are not separable in imagination or reality, e.g., the color and figure of an object, and on this basis to take notice of resemblances between distinct objects, e.g., different colored globes. What he is now suggesting is that a similar analysis applies to the disposition of the colored points. Thus, even though this disposition is not separable from the points themselves and their color, the mind (by a distinction of reason) can consider the former separately and frame the idea of a disposition or order shared by distinct sets of points of different colors. And, by parity of reason, by considering that different dispositions or orderings of points of various colors resemble each other in being dispositions of colored points, the mind can set aside the differences and arrive at a general idea of extension consisting of an indeterminate disposition of points of indeterminate color. Or, more precisely, it can let one particular set of points disposed in a certain way stand for any disposition of points of any color. Although Hume only hints at the latter, such a development is both implicit in his analysis and required to account for the idea of extension or space in general. Moreover, he does explicitly discuss how this analysis can be extended from intra to intersensory modalities (from vision to touch). As
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Hume puts it, in an attempt to call attention to the fact that he is making a significant amplification of his argument, Nay even when the resemblance is carry'd beyond the objects of one sense, and the impressions of touch are found to be similar to those of sight in the disposition of their parts; this does not hinder the abstract idea from representing both, upon account of their resemblance (T 1.2.3.5; SBN 34). The notion that a single idea can represent both visible and tangible extension serves to differentiate Hume's view sharply from Berkeley, who emphasized (p. 47 ) the radical heterogeneity of the two species of extension. 20 Moreover, since tangible extension is obviously three dimensional, this strongly suggests that Hume was committed to a thesis that was denied by both Locke and Berkeley, namely, that visible extension is likewise threedimensional. In other words, on the Humean view we see threedimensional objects, such as the table referred to earlier, rather than flat surfaces, which are interpreted as having a third dimension. 21 Admittedly, Hume never quite says this explicitly and it seems to be contradicted by his remark that, Tis commonly allow'd by philosophers, that all bodies, which discover themselves to the eye, appear as if painted on a plain surface, and their different degrees of remoteness from ourselves are discover'd more by reason than by the senses (T 1.2.5.8; SBN 56). 22 Nevertheless, I believe that there are two compelling reasons why we should not regard the latter passage as a statement of Hume's considered view on the nature of visual perception. The first is Hume's view of compound impressions. Once he has bitten the bullet and claimed that some impressions are extended, there is no further obstacle to claiming that visual as well as tactile impressions can be extended in three dimensions, that is, as Hume himself says, have thickness as well as length and breadth. Thus, his account is at least compatible with visual impressions being threedimensional. Furthermore, there is phenomenological support for such a view, which would carry some weight with Hume, since, contrary to what the above passage suggests, visual experience usually seems to be threedimensional. 23 Thus, the question becomes the basis for this appearance, and for Hume there are only two possibilities: either it is immediately perceived, which means that we have threedimensional visual impressions, or it is a fiction produced by the imagination, presumably on the basis of an associative relation with tactile perceptions. But, in spite of his fondness for fictions of the imagination, Hume nowhere makes any such claim for threedimensional visual extensions, as it seems reasonable to assume he would have done
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had he regarded the idea as a fiction. 24 Moreover, Hume could not say at this point that the third dimension is inferred, since at issue is not the dimensionality of physical objects but of visual perceptions qua visual. Accordingly, if it were inferred, it would have to be from visual evidence, which is just the impression. My second reason is that I can see no other plausible way to understand Hume's claim that the abstract idea of extension, which is itself merely a particular order of disposition of points (either visible or tangible), can represent indifferently either visible or tangible extension. Granted, similarity is not identity; but when Hume claims that the impressions of sight and touch are found to be similar in the disposition of their parts, he presumably means a similarity sufficient to generate an idea of extension, which will suffice (p. 48 ) for representing or calling to mind tokens of either species. And assuming that tangible extension is threedimensional, it follows that a visible extension that is capable of representing tokens of tangible extension must itself be threedimensional, which, given Hume's theory of ideas, further requires that this idea be derived from a threedimensional visual impression. In other words, Hume seems to be suggesting, though he never quite says, that there is something like a common spatial order (or manner of disposition) accessible to both sight and touch, and with it presumably also a common geometry (even if it be an inexact science). Otherwise, the resemblance could not be carried over from the visible to the tangible and the abstract idea of extension could not represent what is common to both. In order to appreciate the significance of this, we need to see Hume's analysis against the backdrop of William Molyneux's famous question to Locke: could a person born blind and thus possessing only a tactile awareness of spatial relations, but who later gained sight through an operation, then recognize visually the same relations that were previously grasped through touch? 25 More specifically, could a blind person who had learned to distinguish a cube from a sphere by touch, be immediately able to distinguish these figures visually, if somehow granted sight? Since it concerns the relationship between two distinct orders of perception, the question served as something of a watershed separating empiricist and rationalist epistemologies. The former, exemplified by Locke and Berkeley, answered the question in the negative. Denying anything like an intrinsic affinity between the two orders, they claimed that it is only through experience that the mind comes to associate the visible with the tangible. 26 Conversely, a rationalist such as Leibniz, while admitting that a person
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suddenly receiving sight through an operation could not at first distinguish anything by purely visual means, nonetheless insists that such a person could discern them by applying rational principles to the sensory knowledge which he has already acquired by touch. And this, for Leibniz, is because there is only a single geometry, that is, a single set of ideas, which must be sharply distinguished from the quite distinct images received through the different sensory modalities. 27 Where, then, does Hume stand on the issue? Since he does not addresses it directly (or even refer to it), one cannot be sure; though it would be natural to assume that his sympathies lie in the empiricist camp. Indeed, this is particularly true in view of his imagistic conception of thought. Nevertheless, if we take seriously the possibility that for Hume both sight and touch yield an awareness of a common threedimensional order or disposition of points, then Hume's position would be closer to Leibniz's rather than the empiricists'. And if, as is assumed in Molyneux's question, the newly sighted person, has a clear (p. 49 ) tactile grasp of the tangible order (could differentiate a sphere from a cube by touch), it is hard to see, at least on Humean grounds, why (setting aside certain psychophysiological factors such as adjusting to the light) such a person could not likewise differentiate between these figures visually. In view of this somewhat unexpected result, let us return to the question of the compatibility of Hume's account of the ideas of space and time with the Copy Principle. The answer suggested by the text involves the combination of an appeal to the analysis of distinctions of reason in T 1.1.7.18; SBN 25, with the account of the given in perception in T 1.2.3.4; SBN 34. We have seen that in attempting to account for the possibility of such distinctions, Hume appeals to the example of variously colored globes. The perceptions of these globes are there regarded as simple impressions, the shapes of which are nonetheless separable in thought from the colors, and vice versa. Accordingly, we may be said to have an impression of their shapes as well as their colors, even though these are not distinct impressions. We have also seen that the analysis of the perception of the table purportedly shows that the shapes appealed to as primitive in the earlier account are really nothing more than dispositions of colored points, which suggests that all Hume needs in order to account for the possibility of impressions of particular extensions is to apply the initial result to the later analysis. In other words, just as we can have an impression of an object's shape, even though it is not distinct from its color, so we can have an impression of the disposition of its points,
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since this is just what its shape really amounts to. therefore, the source of the corresponding idea.
28
This impression is,
This line of thought may well reflect Hume's actual position and explain the confidence with which he appeals to the Copy Principle, but it hardly provides a complete solution to the problem. In particular, it ignores the salient fact that whereas shape is initially treated as a simple impression, Hume now explicitly characterizes the impression of colored (or tangible) points disposed in a certain manner as compound. Moreover, I do not believe that Hume holds that the disposition is a part of the compound impression in the sense of being one of its constituent elements. 29 On the contrary, in characterizing the content of the impression from which the ideas of particular extensions are supposedly derived, Hume tells us that it consists of several lesser impressions that are indivisible to the eye or feeling, and may be call'd impressions of atoms or corpuscles endow'd with colour and solidity (T 1.2.3.15; SBN 38). In other words, the indivisible points are the only components of the impression and what makes the impression compound is not that it has different aspects that may be considered separately, but, rather, that it is composed of a number of these perceptual atoms, each one of which supposedly constitutes a distinct simple impression. Accordingly, the question is whether, as the Copy Principle requires, a mental representation of points disposed in a certain manner counts as an impression in Hume's sense, that is, a lively content passively perceived by the mind and copied by an idea that is exactly similar in everything save its FLV. Impressiontalk may appear to be in order at the commonsense level at which Hume begins, where he refers to an impression of the shape of a colored globe; but it becomes much more problematic when we learn that what was initially viewed as simple (though having different aspects) is really a compound of distinct impressions. At issue is the very notion of a compound impression; and at the heart of the problem is the passivity of the mind, which is criterial for an impression (simple or complex). This requires that the mind not only receives a compound set of data (simple impressions), but that it perceives it as such, that is, as an array of impressions with a certain manner of appearing.
(p. 50 )
Although it applies to his account of space as well, the underlying difficulty is best illustrated by Hume's analysis of the idea of time, which he claims arises altogether from the manner, in which impressions appear to the mind, without making one of the number. In explaining this, Hume remarks, Five
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notes play'd on a flute give us the impression and idea of time, tho time be not a sixth impression, which presents itself to the hearing or any others of the senses. Nor is it a sixth impression, which the mind by reflection finds in itself (T 1.2.3.10; SBN 36). Here Hume emphatically denies that there is a distinct impression of time. All that is given to the mind are the five successive impressions; there is no additional impression of the succession itself, that is, of the notes manner of appearing. Moreover, Hume goes on to reinforce this point, remarking that in contemplating the succession of notes, the mind does not feel some new original impression arise, but only takes notice of the manner, in which the different sounds make their appearance (T 1.2.3.10; SBN 37). Hume is clearly correct in denying that there is a distinct impression of the manner of appearing of these notes, which is somehow perceived together with the five successive notes. Where he runs into trouble is in trying to explain how the mind could take notice of this manner of appearing and form an idea of a determinate stretch of time (that constituted by the succession of the notes) without having an impression of it. If all that is given to the mind are the five successive notes, how does the awareness of their successiveness, which just is their manner of appearing, arise? Let us assume that the fifth note of the sequence is currently being perceived; in which case its perception takes the form of an impression. At this point, however, the previous four notes have already vanished into the past and are replaced by memoryimages, which are ideas for Hume and which need to be combined with each other and the (p. 51 ) present impression in order to form a representation of the succession, which just is their manner of appearing. In short, the manner of appearing cannot be regarded as simply passively received and then copied in the form of an idea. On the contrary, unless one attributes temporal thickness to impressions, it seems that something like Kant's synthesis of apprehension is required in order to perceive a determinate succession. 30 For reasons similar to those suggested above, Hume's attempt to link his treatment of the ideas of space and time with the Copy Principle, like his treatment of the ideas themselves, has been widely rejected in the literature. 31 More recently, however, Hume's attempted linkage has been defended by Lorne Falkenstein, who argues that Hume's account of the ideas of space and time constitutes an amendment to this principle rather than an exception. 32 In fact, according to Falkenstein, it is an exceedingly friendly amendment, which far from weakening or qualifying the principle extends its scope beyond the sphere to which Hume himself limited it, namely,
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simple impressions, to the compound (or complex) impressions that Hume claims to be the sources of our ideas of space and time. 33 In arguing for this view, Falkenstein maintains that the latter consist not merely of the simple impressions, but of an array or order thereof. 34 Thus, in contrast to the view suggested above, he effectively maintains that this order constitutes part of the content of these impressions, which means that there is nothing to prevent it from being faithfully copied in the corresponding compound idea. As he puts it at one point, That this manner or disposition of parts should be copied over into the idea is ultimately no more mysterious ... than that a photocopier should reproduce not only the letters on a printed page, but the exact order in which they are printed. 35 Falkenstein's defense of this thesis rests on two prongs. First, he calls attention to Hume's claim that both impressions of extension and their corresponding ideas are themselves extended. 36 Although this seems deeply paradoxical and is often dismissed as manifest nonsense, we have seen that the extendedness of some impressions (those pertaining to sight and touch) is a consequence of Hume's view of impressions and that, given this, the extendedness of their corresponding ideas follows from the Copy Principle. Second, and more controversially, Falkenstein defends the plausibility of this view and with it the applicability of the Copy Principle to the ideas of space and time, by attributing to Hume a distinctive conception of representation. In this vein, he suggests that what makes Hume's claim that ideas of extension are extended seem paradoxical is the imposition on him of a conception of representation (which Falkenstein associates with Reid) according to which ideas are intentional acts that take impressions as their objects. 37 Since, according to Falkenstein, ideas for Hume are objects rather than acts of thinking and (p. 52 ) represent their objects by mirroring them rather than by intending them, it is perfectly natural to view ideas of extension as themselves extended. 38 Inasmuch as Falkenstein claims merely that this view is not an obviously incoherent one, 39 I shall not discuss its intrinsic merits. Instead, I shall call attention to two points. First, his analysis glosses over what I take to be the main point, which is the extendedness of impressions. Second, the denial of the intentionality of consciousness, which his reading implies, does not fit well with crucial aspects of Hume's overall position. A case in point is Hume's account of distinctions of reason. As we have seen, these distinctions supposedly arise through the mind considering separately aspects of its
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impressions that are inseparable in the impression, which, in turn, makes it possible to note resemblances or similarities between distinct impressions. It seems clear, however, that this capacity presupposes that the mind does not simply have resembling ideas that mirror resembling impressions, but also has an awareness of them as resembling. In addition, it seems equally clear that the consideration of aspects of impressions and the noting of these resemblances are acts of the mind regarding its perceptions and are themselves conditions of the application of a name. Thus, pace Falkenstein, I do not see how Hume's theory of ideas precludes the intentionality of consciousness, even though it may very well be true that it is unable to provide a satisfactory account of it. 40
III
If our ideas of space and time are not copies of impressions what are they? Presumably, for Hume the only alternative would be to characterize them as innate, which would be anathema to him as it was to his fellow empiricists. And this, I believe, is why Hume stuck to his Copy Principle in spite of the abovementioned difficulties in applying it to these ideas. I also believe, however, that it is just at this point that a comparison of Hume's account of space and time with Kant's becomes illuminating. 41 Admittedly, at first glance, such a comparison does not appear to be a particularly apt, since Hume's views on the topic are diametrically opposed to Kant's in at least two essential respects. First, whereas Hume attempts to provide our ideas of space and time with an empirical foundation, Kant emphasizes their apriority, and assigns them the status of pure intuitions. Second, whereas Hume's account is based on the denial of their infinite divisibility, which leads him also to deny (at least in the Treatise) the a priori nature of geometry, Kant prides himself on the fact that his doctrine accounts for the possibility of the synthetic a priori status of geometry, as well as the infinite divisibility of space and time. Nevertheless, there are at least two significant similarities, which I believe make such a comparison worthwhile. The first is methodological: both thinkers arrive at their conclusions by rejecting all the alternatives then currently thought to be available and introducing a radically new alternative, which transforms the framework in which the question had previously been posed. For Hume, following Bayle, the question was the composition of the continuum and the possible alternatives, spelled out by Bayle: mathematical points, physical points, and infinite divisibility. Largely
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accepting Bayle's criticisms of these alternatives, Hume attempts to avoid the latter's sceptical conclusion by introducing his new alternative (colored or tangible points), which supposedly enabled him to preserve the existence of extension (and succession) from Bayle's dialectic and the validity of geometry (reinterpreted as an empirical science of physical extension). Similarly, Kant (for whom the problem was framed in terms of the great debate between the absolutist Newtonians and the relationist Leibnizians) rejected both views and introduced his own critical alternative, according to which space and time are a priori forms of human sensibility. This likewise transformed the nature of the debate, since rather than being conceived as either themselves quasithings or relations that hold between things independently of their epistemic relation to the human mind, space and time are reconceived as ways of cognizing things or, as I have elsewhere termed them, epistemic conditions. 42 Second, there is at least a partial agreement between the two thinkers concerning the nature of the representations of space and time. Although as a dedicated antischolastic Hume eschews any use of the term form, we have seen that he characterizes the perceptions (both impressions and ideas) of space and time by means of locutions such as [points] dispos'd in a certain manner, the manner of their appearance, the disposition of points or manner of appearance (T 1.2.3.4; SBN 34), the manner in which different sounds make their appearance (T 1.2.3.10; SBN 37), and the manner or order in which objects exist (T 1.2.4.2; SBN 40). Accordingly, space and time for Hume are the manner or order in which objects appear (or exist) rather than themselves objects that appear (or exist), which, in spite of the terminological differences, is quite close to Kant's view. In fact, the recognition of this similarity has led Falkenstein to suggest that both thinkers be viewed as formal intuitionists, by which he means that they regard space and time as expressions of the manner in which sensory data are given to or received by the mind in experience rather than being themselves either distinct sensory data or products of an intellectual or imaginative activity performed upon these data. 43 The salient difference stems from the fact that for Kant form, while sometimes meaning way or manner, primarily means condition; so that for (p. 54 ) him the form in which things appear is itself a condition of their appearing in this manner (as related in space and time). Moreover, this form reflects the nature of the human mind (in Kant's terms its peculiar forms of sensibility) rather than the nature or relations of things as they are in themselves. Naturally, Hume would reject the latter aspect of Kant's position,
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since it runs directly counter to his thoroughgoing empiricism. Nevertheless, given the failure of the Copy Principle, it becomes difficult to see how Hume could maintain his thesis that space and time are manners of appearing without adopting something close to the Kantian position. In an attempt to substantiate this thesis, I shall here consider Hume's views in light of the central arguments of Kant's Metaphysical Expositions of the concepts of space and time in the Transcendental Aesthetic. Although these arguments are addressed mainly to the Newtonian and Leibnizian views, they have a direct bearing on the issues separating Kant and Hume. Kant has a twofold goal in these expositions: he wants to show that the representations of space and time are both a priori and intuitive, from which (together with the Transcendental Exposition, which in the case of space is an argument from the synthetic a priori nature of geometry) he concludes that space and time themselves are nothing but forms of human sensibility, which is the central thesis of transcendental idealism. Having discussed Kant's idealism in considerable detail elsewhere, I shall here set aside that issue and focus instead on Kant's arguments for the apriority and intuitive nature of these representations. And, inasmuch as these arguments are largely parallel, I shall reverse the usual procedure and focus mainly (though not exclusively) on time. Not only will this help to avoid redundancy, it will also make it possible to build upon the preceding analysis of Hume's treatment of time. Kant offers two arguments for the apriority of the representation of time. Since they are both quite short, I shall cite them in full and then comment briefly upon their bearing on Hume: (1) Time is not an empirical concept that is somehow drawn from experience. For simultaneity or succession would not themselves come into perception if the representation of time did not ground them a priori. Only under its presupposition can one represent that several things exist at one and the same time (simultaneously) or in different times (successively). (2) Time is a necessary representation that grounds all intuition. In regard to appearances in general one cannot remove time, though one can very well take the appearances away from time. Time is therefore given a priori. In it alone is all actuality of appearances possible. The latter could all disappear, but time itself (as the universal
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condition of their possibility) cannot be removed. (A 301/B 46) Since the first argument denies that time is an empirical concept, it obviously applies to Hume's as well as to classical empiricists' accounts of the origin of the idea such as Locke's. 44 Kant's justification for this claim is contained in the second sentence, which notes that the very relations to which one might appeal in order to explain the origin of the representation of time, namely, simultaneity and succession, already presuppose it. Accordingly, any attempt to derive this representation from the perception of successive objects or events is inherently circular. 45
(p. 55 )
The problem with Hume's account that is captured by Kant's argument can be easily seen from a consideration of his discussion of the five successive notes. We have already seen that we cannot regard these notes as given in a single, compound impression, which is then copied by an idea, because, as successive, they do not exist at the same time, though they succeed each other in the same time. Thus, in order to form the compound idea of the five successive notes, it is necessary to bind them together in the imagination. If the notes were played simultaneously on different instruments this would not apply; but Hume's, as well as most treatments of time, leave out the notion of simultaneity. 46 Quite apart from the function of the imagination, however, it is clear that the attempt to derive the idea of time from the perception of simultaneity would be hopeless, since by the latter is meant existence at the same time. Moreover, the same applies, mutatis mutandis, to succession, by which is understood existence at successive times. Accordingly, unless time were presupposed as the medium or framework in which this succession is perceived, one could not be conscious of the notes as successively occurring in it, which is to say that the representation of time is a priori. In fact, it is a priori not merely in the negative sense that it is not empirical, but also in the positive sense that it functions as a condition of the empirical representation of time, which is the point that Kant makes in the third and final sentence of the argument. Kant's second apriority argument is also applicable to Hume, though in a less direct way. It turns on the allegedly asymmetrical nature of the dependence relation between time and appearances in time. Basically, it affirms that one may take (in thought) appearances out of time, but not time out of appearances, which means in effect that time is a condition of the manner of appearing of these appearances. 47 This argument has Aristotelian roots and falls under the following schema: if x can be (or be
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represented) without A, B, C and their mutual relations, while A, B, C cannot be (or be represented) without x, then x must be viewed as a condition of the possibility of A, B, C and their mutual relations (or the representation thereof). 48 In the case of Hume's successive notes, the claim would be that we could have the representation of the time in which this succession occurs without these successive notes, but (p. 56 ) not the succession of notes without the representation of time as the condition of the representation of their succession, which again makes it a priori. Hume would agree that we could have the idea of time apart from the succession of the five notes, since he used them merely as an illustration of how we arrive at the idea of a particular duration (or stretch of time). Thus, any succession of phenomena would do equally well and enable Hume to explain how, by abstracting from the content and attending only to the successiveness (the manner of appearing), we come to form for ourselves a general idea of time or duration, which is applicable to all instances. He would, however, reject the thesis that we could somehow represent time without appearances. In fact, one of the avowed consequences of Hume's view, which is partially eclipsed by the attention that he devotes to the denial of a vacuum, is the rejection of the possibility of an idea of an empty time, understood as one in which there was no succession or change in any real existence (T 1.2.4.2; SBN 40). Accordingly, we need to take a look at Hume's reasoning behind this claim. Unfortunately, Hume's treatment of this topic is extremely perfunctory and basically comes down to two points. The first is the familiar challenge to produce the impression. Appealing to the ubiquitous Copy Principle, Hume concludes that since there is no impression there can be no idea of an empty time (T 1.2.5.28; SBN 645). The second is the equally familiar strategy of providing a psychological explanation of why we erroneously come to believe that we have such an idea (T 1.2.5.29; SBN 65). As far as the first point is concerned, its force depends entirely on the Copy Principle, which we have already seen does not appear applicable to the ideas of space and time. And if this is true, the impossibility of having or locating an impression of empty time, though it cannot be gainsaid, is beside the point. Nevertheless, it should be noted that to some extent the two philosophers are speaking past one another here, since they seem to mean different things by an empty time. For Kant it is one devoid of appearances, whereas for Hume it is one in which there was no succession or change in any real existence, that is, a time through which some entity is experienced
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as enduring without undergoing any perceived change or succession. 49 Clearly, if there were no appearances there could be no change, since there would be nothing to change; but this does not preclude appearances that endure without change, which is just what Hume denies. Or, more precisely, he denies that the perception of such a duration could give rise to the idea of time. Inasmuch as Hume identifies time with duration rather than succession (just as he identifies space with extension), it might seem surprising that he would deny that the perception of duration could of itself give rise to the idea of time. 50 Nevertheless, this becomes understandable if we keep in mind that for Hume (p. 57 ) successiveness is the manner of appearing that gives rise to, indeed constitutes, the idea of time or duration. In response, however, Kant could point out that both duration and succession (together with simultaneity) are modes of time, which, as such, presuppose time. 51 I shall return to this point below. Hume's psychological explanation of the genesis of the fictitious belief in a time in which something endures without change amounts to a highly truncated version of the far more elaborate explanation he provided of the fictitious belief in empty space or a vacuum. 52 It seems clear, however, that Hume is offering it as an application of the principle, which he describes as a general maxim in this science of human nature, that wherever there is a close relation betwixt two ideas, the mind is very apt to mistake them, and in all discourses and reasonings to use the one for the other (T 1.2.5.19; SBN 60). In the case of a purportedly empty space or vacuum, the two ideas were that of a real visible or tangible extension and an imaginary empty one; in the case of time, they are the perceptions of a changing and a putatively unchanging object. The close relation is not between the ideas of the two objects, but between the ways in which the mind entertains them with respect to time. In both cases, there is, Hume tells us, a continual succession of perceptions in our mind; so that the idea of time being for ever present with us ... , from which it supposedly follows that in considering a stedfast object at two points of time, the mind proceeds in much the same way as it does in considering one that changes (T 1.2.5.29; SBN 65). In other words, the similarity in the manner of perceiving (successively) leads the mind falsely to assign a temporal duration to an object in which no change is perceived. This explanation appears to turn on the abovenoted point regarding the dependence of the perception of a duration on that of a succession or
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change. As such, it suffers from the same defect as Hume's explanation of the similarly fictitious idea of a vacuum, namely, it involves a petitio principi. Moreover, this is not surprising inasmuch as it is intended as an exact parallel. In the case of the vacuum, Hume attempted to explain how, due to certain resemblances, we tend to conflate our idea of an imaginary empty space with a real filled one (constituted by an array of colored or tangible points); and the problem is that the possibility of this conflation presupposes that we already have an idea of such an empty space, which is the very thing that Hume wants to deny being possible. 53 Similarly, in the case of an empty time, understood as one in which something endures without change, Hume's account presupposes that we have such an idea, which, again, is precisely what he wants to deny. In addition to this internal difficulty in Hume's explanatory account, there are two further problems in his treatment of the idea of an empty time, when (p. 58 ) considered from a Kantian point of view. First, it suffers from the previously noted identification of time with duration, thereby ignoring the key point that duration, together with succession and simultaneity, are modes of time. In order to understand the Kantian position, however, it is important to keep in mind that by this expression Kant does not mean properties of time itself but of things in time. In other words, things and events are experienced as enduring, succeeding, and as being simultaneous or coexistent with one another in time, which means that such experience presupposes time, not as a distinct object of experience (here Kant is in essential agreement with Hume), but as the presupposed framework in which such experience is possible. Second, and as a direct consequence of this, the representation of time is a priori. Indeed, Hume comes as close to recognizing this as his empiricistic commitments will permit, when he remarks that the idea of time is for ever present with us. If sound, Kant's metaphysical exposition up to this point has established the apriority of the representation of time. As such, it is compatible with it being an a priori concept, which for Hume (though not for Kant) would mean that it is an innate idea. Kant goes further, however, arguing not merely that time (like space) is a priori, but also that it is an a priori or pure intuition. Within the broader framework of the Critique, this move is motivated by Kant's concern to link space and time with sensibility rather than the understanding and it is, therefore, inseparable from his discursivity thesis and transcendental idealism. It is also central to Kant's polemic with Leibnizian rationalism, as well as his attempt to ground the synthetic a priori status of mathematics. At the same time, however, his arguments for the
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intuition thesis shed additional light on Kant's relation to Hume regarding the nature of space and time and it is from this limited point of view that I shall consider them here. 54 As with the case of space, Kant offers two arguments for the intuitive nature of the representation of time, both of which assume the conceptintuition distinction and maintain, albeit on somewhat different grounds, that it must be an intuition because it cannot be a concept. Or, more precisely, since Kant does recognize that we have spatial and temporal concepts, for example, the concepts of a yard and a year, the claim is that these concepts presuppose an underlying intuition. As Kant put it at one point, space is inuitus, quem sequitur conceptus. 55 He could have said the same for time. Kant's initial argument turns on the singularity of time. He points out that this accords with the nature of intuitions as singular representations. If this singularity is to bear the weight assigned to it, however, more has to be said. In particular, the reason why there is only a single time cannot be like the reason why there is only a single tallest man in the world, since that would hardly support Kant's claim that it is a pure intuition. Rather, the (p. 59 ) key point underlying Kant's characterization is a peculiar feature of time (and space), namely, that Different times are only parts of one and the same time (A 31/B 47). Moreover, as Kant makes explicit in his discussion of space, but surely wishes to say of time as well, [T]hese parts cannot as it were precede the allencompassing space [time] as its components (from which its composition would be possible), but rather are only thought in it. It is essentially single; the manifold in it, thus also the general concept of spaces [times] in general, rests merely on limitations (A 25/B 39). The conclusion that Kant immediately draws from this is that the representations of space and time cannot be classified as concepts because the partwhole relation they embody is distinct from that which pertains to concepts. Whereas in the case of space and time the whole precedes and is a condition of the parts, which is why they are essentially single, in the case of concepts the reverse holds. As general representations, Kantian concepts are composed of other concepts, termed partial representations or marks (Merkmale), which constitute their intension or sense. For example, the marks of gold include metallicness, yellowness, malleability, solubility in aqua regia, etc. These also determine the properties of the class of things that fall under or constitute the extension of the concept. And this again differs from the representations of space and time, since in their case
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particular spaces and times are contained in rather than falling under the representation. Although Hume's theory of ideas has no place for Kantian concepts, his complex ideas do share one important feature with them, namely, the wholepart relation. This becomes clear as soon as one notes that, though particular, Hume's complex ideas are produced by the combination (through the associative mechanisms of the imagination) of simple ideas. Consequently, in their case the parts likewise precede and are conditions of the whole. Moreover, while for Hume the compound ideas of various bits of extension or stretches of time are supposedly copied from their corresponding compound impressions, it is evident from the compositionalist picture that Hume presents in the first part of his system that the same applies to the latter as well. By contrast, if we turn to the second part of this system, wherein space and time are characterized as manners of appearing, a quite different picture emerges. First, this manner is apprehended immediately rather than constructed or inferred, which satisfies Kant's immediacy criterion for an intuition. 56 Second, though this is a point that Hume would challenge, we have seen through a consideration of Kant's apriority arguments, that the apprehension of this manner presupposes the representations of a single space and time. From this point of view, what the intuition argument considered above adds is an explanation of how the representations of space and time are presupposed, (p. 60 ) namely, as the a priori frameworks in relation to which spatiotemporal determinations are made. For example, when Hume talks about a determinate extension as a disposition of points or a manner of appearance, this must already be understood in spatial terms, say as contiguous or as located a certain distance from each other, from which it follows that it cannot be the source of our idea of extension. Similarly, if we wish to introduce the previously discussed notion of an intrinsically minimal distance as the basis for Hume's construction of extension from an aggregation of colored or tangible points, we are obviously already importing a spatial notion (distance), which returns us to the previously noted circularity. And the same applies, mutatis mutandis, to the idea of time. What this examination of Hume's system regarding space and time through Kantian spectacles shows is the deep tension between the two parts of this system. To be sure, Hume himself was not aware of any tension, since he presented the second part as a consequence of the first. Nevertheless,
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we have seen that the first part effectively construes space and time as compound ideas that track compound impressions, while the second considers them as manners of appearing, which, as such, not only resemble Kantian intuitions, but also forces one to regard them as a priori. Lacking anything like Kant's conceptintuition distinction, the problem could not have appeared to Hume in those terms; but he arguably should have noted the tension between his account of space and time as manners of appearing with the Copy Principle. The relevance of Kant's second intuition arguments stems primarily from the fact that they deal with the infinitude of space and time and, by implication, their infinite divisibility. In the case of time, Kant states that its infinitude signifies nothing more than that every determinate magnitude of time is only possible through limitations of a single time grounding it. The original representation time must therefore be given as unlimited (A 32/B 478). 57 Accordingly, time and space are infinite not in the sense that they are composed of an infinite number of parts, which is the only sense of infinity that Hume allows, but in the quite different sense of being boundless, so that however large a segment one assumes, it will always be encompassed by more of the same. 58 For Kant this entails that space and time are intuitions, since this again is incompatible with the partwhole relation that pertains to concepts; and this is the use to which he puts this analysis in the Transcendental Aesthetic. Finally, it must be noted that this analysis entails the infinite divisibility of space and time; for the same process operates in reverse. In other words, just as every extent of space and time is bounded by more of the same, which makes them boundless, so every slice of space and time, no matter how small, (p. 61 ) always contains within it further spaces and times, which means that they are infinitely divisible without being composed of an infinite number of parts. To be sure, Kant was not the originator of the idea that space and time could be infinitely divisible without being composed of an infinite number of parts, but his account of them as pure intuitions constituted an advance in understanding this possibility. In particular, it enabled Kant to claim that a moment is a limit rather than a part of time, from which it follows that the indivisibility of a moment, which like that of a point is a conceptual truth, has no bearing on the indivisibility of any portion of time. 59
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IV
In conclusion, I would like to add a word about a distinct but closely related issue that is suggested by the preceding analysis. The issue concerns Kant's Second Antinomy, more particularly the antithesis of this antinomy, which affirms infinite divisibility through a denial of simplicity. Since Kant was apparently not aware of this aspect of Hume's thought, it is not surprising that the antithesis contains no reference to his arguments against infinite divisibility and for simplicity. Nevertheless, it has been suggested that this marks a significant defect in Kant's argument; indeed, that it fails because it ignores the alternative solution offered by Hume to a similar dialectic in Bayle, namely, that extension is composed of indivisible (colored or tangible points), which are located in and occupy space, but are not extended. 60 In considering the question of whether the antithesis of the Second Antinomy succeeds in eliminating the Humean alternative, it is essential to recognize that the argument is divided into two parts. The first part asserts that No composite thing in the world consists of simple parts, and the second that nowhere in it [the world] does there exist anything simple (A 435/B 463). The first part appeals to the concept of substance and consists of a reductio of the assumption that a composite substance consists of simple parts. The nerve of the argument is the premise that such a composition is possible only in space, from which it follows that there must be as many parts of space as there are parts of the composite that occupies it. But since (as shown in the intuition arguments) space itself consists of spaces rather than simple parts, it likewise follows that the presumed simple must occupy a space. The problem, however, is that everything real or substantial that occupies a space must itself contain a manifold of elements external to one another, that is, be composite. And this generates the contradiction that the simple is a substantial composite (A 435/B 463). It is clear from the fact that this argument concerns the composition of substances in space that it does not address the Humean view. It is also clear that Hume would reject the premise that space consists of spaces rather than simple (nonextended) parts. The situation appears quite different, however, when one turns to the second part of the argument, which, as Kant puts it in his conclusion, does away with the simple in the whole of nature (A 438/B 466). 61 Here Kant's argument is purely epistemological, turning on the principle, which Hume would certainly accept, that in order for such a simple (which Kant characterizes as a transcendental) idea to be established empirically, the empirical intuition
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of some such object would have to be recognized, an intuition containing absolutely no manifold whose elements are external to one another and bound into a unity (A 437/B 465). But, the argument continues, this condition cannot be met, since there is no inference from our not being conscious of such a manifold to its complete impossibility in any intuition of an object (A 437/B 465). Simply put, we cannot infer genuine simplicity from the lack of a perception of manifoldness. But this is precisely what Hume did, as is evidenced by his appeal to the disappearing ink spot. Thus, even though he may not have realized it, Kant's complete argument in the antithesis to the Second Antinomy does address Hume's position and, indeed, at its most vulnerable point.
Notes:
(1) Recent positive treatments include Donald L. M. Baxter, Hume on Infinite Divisibility, History of Philosophy Quarterly, 5 ( 1988 ), 13340; Lorne Falkenstein, Hume on Manners of Disposition and the Ideas of Space and Time, Archiv fr Geschichte der Philosophie, 79 ( 1997 ), 179201; Marina FrascaSpada, Space and the Self in Hume's Treatise (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998 ). (2) Prominent among these are John Laird, Hume's Philosophy of Human Nature (London: Methuen & Co., 1932 ), 6483 and Norman Kemp Smith, The Philosophy of David Hume: A Critical Study of its Origins and Central Doctrines (London: Macmillan, 1949 ), 272346. (3) Perhaps the most prominent examples of this are Barry Stroud, Hume (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1977 ), and David Pears, Hume's System: An Examination of the First Book of his Treatise (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990 ). (4) C. D. Broad, Hume's Doctrine of Space, Proceedings of the British Academy, vol. xlvii ( 1961 ), 176. (5) See ibid. and Antony Flew, Infinite Divisibility in Hume's Treatise, in Donald Livingston and James T. King (eds.), Hume: A Reevaluation (New York: Fordham University Press, 1976 ), 258. As in the case of Flew, the superiority of the Enquiry account is usually framed in terms of its more orthodox treatment of geometry. (6) See Berkeley, An Essay Towards a New Theory of Vision, esp. 5461, 7983, The Works of George Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne, ed. A. A. Luce and
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T. E. Jessop (London: Thomas Nelson and Sons, 194867 ), i. 1914, 2035; The Principles of Human Knowledge ibid., 1234, ii. 979. (7) Pierre Bayle, Historical and Critical Dictionary: Selections, ed. and trans. Richard H. Popkin (Indianapolis, Ind.: BobbsMerrill Company, Inc., 1965 ). See esp. the article Zeno of Elea, ibid., 35088. (8) The antisceptical thrust of Hume's account is emphasized by Kemp Smith, The Philosophy of David Hume, esp. 2857. (9) Kemp Smith describes this position as a modification of mathematical points, which corresponds to Hume's own characterization (see ibid., 287 n.). Nevertheless, I believe it more accurate to describe it as a distinct alternative, since unlike mathematical points, Hume's points are viewed as real components of the extended. (10) Bayle, Historical and Critical Dictionary, 35960. (11) In the Enquiry Hume defends physical points, but he there understands by them indivisible parts of extension, that is, the minima of the Treatise (see EHU 12.18, 33 n.; SBN 156 n.). Thus, his change is merely terminological. (12) Hume gives clear expression to the aggregational view in his analysis of the equality of geometrical figures and the criteria for determining it. In discussing this question, Hume remarks that, though scorned by mathematicians, the hypothesis of indivisible points is far better suited to the task than that of infinite divisibility. For an advocate of the former need only reply, that lines or surfaces are equal, when the number of points in each are equal; and that as the proportion of the numbers varies, the proportion of the lines and surfaces is also vary'd (T 1.2.4.19; SBN 45). Although Hume notes that this advantage is useless in practice because the number of points in even a small line or surface is too large to calculate, what is important for us here is the idea that extensive magnitude is a function of the number of extensionless points, which constitute a determinate extension by aggregation. (13) Those who attribute a relational view of space and/or time to Hume include Ben Mijuskovic, Hume on Space and Time, Journal of the History of Philosophy, 6 ( 1977 ), 38794; Donald Baxter, Hume on Infinite Divisibility; and Robert McRae, The Import of Hume's Theory of Time, Hume Studies, 6 ( 1980 ), 11932.
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(14) See the The LeibnizClarke Correspondence, ed. H. G. Alexander (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1956 ); Clarke's Third Reply, 4; Fourth Reply, 1617; and Fifth Reply, 54. Leibniz's response to this objection is in some ways similar to the one I attribute to Hume below. He claims that order also has its quantity; there is in it, that which goes before, and that which follows; there is distance or interval (Leibniz's Fifth Paper, 54). Moreover, McRae has suggested that in Conversation of Philarite and Ariste (1711) Leibniz offered an account of extension that is quite close to Hume's (The Import of Hume's Theory of Time, 105). (15) Broad, Hume's Doctrine of Space, 169. (16) Ibid., 170. (17) Ibid. (18) See T 1.2.1.4; SBN 27. (19) Leibniz's most extensive discussion of space and time as orders of coexistent and successive phenomena respectively is to be found in his polemic with Clarke. See The LeibnizClarke Correspondence, Leibniz's Fifth Paper, esp. 47 and 548. As far as the infinite divisibility of matter and extension are concerned, its noteworthy that in his handwritten remarks on his copy of Berkeley's Principles, after expressing some sympathy for Berkeley's phenomenalistic program, Leibniz reaffirms his relational view of space and time, and after chastising Berkeley for his misguided views on abstract ideas states that, The worst thing is that he rejects the division of extension to infinity, even if he might rightly reject infinitesimal quantities (G. W. Leibniz, Philosophical Essays, ed. and trans. Roger Ariew and Daniel Garber (Indianapolis, Ind. and Cambridge: Hackett Publishing Company, 1989 ), 307). (20) This is a central thesis in Berkeley's An Essay Towards A New Theory of Vision. Thus, at one point he queries: That which I see is only a variety of light and colours. That which I feel is hard or soft, hot or cold, rough or smooth. What similitude, what connexion have those ideas with these? 103, Works, i. 212. (21) This is essentially the Lockean view. According to Locke, what is actually seen is only a Plain variously colour'd, that is, a twodimensional figure,
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from which the percipient frames to it self the perception of a convex figure, and an uniform colour (ECHU 2.9.8; N 145). (22) I am indebted to Lorne Falkenstein for calling this passage to my attention in private correspondence. (23) This was pointed out to me by Falkenstein (see the preceding note) who, nevertheless, denies that it is decisive because of its incompatibility with T 1.2.5.8. Pace Falkenstein, I opt to play down the latter passage in light of this bit of phenomenology as well as the other considerations adduced here. In this context, it is perhaps noteworthy that this passage is part of an argument against the vacuum that turns on the claim that the distance of bodies from us must be inferred rather than directly perceived, which is independent of the twodimensionality of what is immediately seen. In other words, the passage that supports the view that visual impressions for Hume contain only two dimensions, which he presents as something commonly allow'd by philosophers, is incidental to the argument in which it appears. (24) One might object that the contrary is suggested by passages such as T 1.4.2.9; SBN 191, where Hume states that, Even our sight informs us not of distance or outness (so to speak) immediately and without a certain reasoning and experience, as is acknowledg'd by the most rational philosophers. This is part of Hume's argument in Of skepticism with regard to the senses, which is intended to show that the senses do not perceive objects as external to the self; but this sense of externality (as involving ontological independence) has nothing to do with the threedimensionality of what is visually perceived. (25) For a useful overview of the issues involved, see Ernst Cassirer, The Philosophy of the Enlightenment, trans. Fritz C. A. Koelln and James P. Pettegrove (Boston, Mass.: Beacon Press, 1955 ), 10816. (26) ECHU 2.9.8; N 1456; Berkeley, Essay on the New Theory of Vision, 1323, Works, i. 2256. (27) Leibniz, New Essays on Human Understanding, ed. and trans. Peter Remnant and Jonathan Bennett (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981 ), 2.9.8, pp. 1367. (28) Admittedly, this does not yet take into consideration the magnitude of extension (size and distance); but Hume's preliminary account of the idea of distance suggests that it might be accounted for in the same way.
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(29) This is at least suggested, however, by Hume's remark that the idea of extension is nothing but a copy of these colour'd points, and [my emphasis] of the manner of their appearance (T 1.2.3.4; SBN 34). (30) For Kant's account of the synthesis of apprehension in intuition, see A98100. Although the issue is clearest in the case of time, I believe that a similar argument can be mounted, mutatis mutandis, regarding space. (31) Recently, Marina FrascaSpada has attempted to defend Hume on this score by denying that he intended his account of space and time to fall under the Copy Principle (See Space and the Self in Hume's Treatise, esp. 5683). Although I find her analysis insightful and highly suggestive of what Hume ought to have said, I remain unconvinced by her account of what he actually does say. In particular, I find problematic her emphasis on the analogy between the account of belief as a manner of conception and the manner of appearing, which characterizes the points that constitute the ingredients of the impressions of spaces and times; for whereas the former arguably refers to an activity or contribution of the mind, the latter does not. The order or disposition of the points is viewed by Hume as given to, not produced by, the mind. Moreover, since Hume explicitly equates the Copy Principle with the denial of innate ideas (T 1.1.11; SBN 7), viewing the ideas of space and time in this way or, more generally, as exceptions to his principle in the ways suggested by FrascaSpada, would have required him to admit that these ideas were innate. (32) Falkenstein, Hume on Manners of Disposition, esp. 181. (33) Like Locke and Berkeley before him, Hume treats complex and compound as synonymous. As already noted, he differs from them in applying the terms to impressions as well as ideas. (34) Falkenstein, Hume on Manners of Disposition, 194. (35) Ibid. (36) Ibid., 191, 196200. (37) Ibid., 181, 193, 196. (38) Falkenstein uses this analysis to reply to an essentially Kantian criticism (attributed to M. R. Annand, An Examination of Hume's Theory of Relations, Monist, 40 ( 1930 ), 58197) that Hume's account of the origin of the idea of succession through the perception of the five successive notes fails to
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explain how the mind is able to move from a succession of perceptions to the perception of a succession. According to Falkenstein, no such explanation is required on Hume's view, since the distinction between an ordered series of perceptions and the perception of an ordered series collapsesthe second is reducible to the first (Hume on Manners of Disposition, 193). Falkenstein defends the latter claim by appealing to Hume's extreme nominalism; the basic point being that our apparent ability to think of relations such as the succession of two perceptions does not require the assumption that this relation is an intentional object, but can be accounted for by the use of words or other tokens that are taken to signify classes of compound ideas that resemble one another in exhibiting certain relations of parts (ibid., 196). As shall become clear below, I am not sympathetic to such a reading. (39) Ibid. (40) I shall return to the question of intentionality in Hume in Chapter 6 in connection with an analysis of his theory of belief. (41) The possibility of such a comparison is noted, but not really explored, by Charles W. Hendel, Studies in the Philosophy of David Hume (Indianapolis, Ind. and New York: BobbsMerrill Company, Inc., 1963 ), 41819, and Henri Lauener, Hume und Kant (Berne: Francke Verlag, 1969 ), 52. More recently, the issue has been broached in an interesting way by Falkenstein in Kant's Intuitionism: A Commentary on the Transcendental Aesthetic (Toronto, Buffalo, NY, and London: University of Toronto Press, 1995 ). I shall discuss his views below. (42) For my discussion of this, see Kant's Transcendental Idealism: An Interpretation and Defense, rev. and enlarged edn. (New Haven, Conn. and London: Yale University Press, 2004 ), ch. 5. (43) See Falkenstein, Kant's Intuitionism, esp. 913. Falkenstein uses the term intuitionism to express the view that the data are given in a certain way in perception independently of any constructive activity of the mind. As such, he contrasts it with constructivism. Intuitionism is formal in Falkenstein's sense in so far as what is received by the mind is an order of sensory data rather than some sensory quality. I believe that he is correct both in claiming that Hume and Kant are formal intuitionists in this sense and that they are the only two major philosophers to warrant this designation. For the reasons cited earlier, however, I also believe (though here he may disagree) that this formal intuition requires that visible impressions can be threedimensional.
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(44) For Locke the idea of time involves succession and duration and he locates the origin of both in reflection on the flow of ideas in the mind. See ECHU 2.14.1618; N 1867. (45) For versions of this criticism that are not inspired by Kant, see Alexander Rosenberg, Hume and the Philosophy of Science, in David Fate Norton (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Hume (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993 ), 83, and Oliver Johnson, The Mind of David Hume: A Companion to Book I of A Treatise of Human Nature (Urbana, Ill. and Chicago, Ill.: University of Illinois Press, 1995 ), 923. (46) Although Kant had Leibniz rather than Hume in mind, in his treatment of time in the Inaugural Dissertation Kant complains that simultaneity is left out of the commonly accepted definition of time (ID 2: 401; 394). (47) Taking appearances out of time is to be understood as a thought experiment in which we abstract from all empirical content, not as a thesis to the effect that we can experience an empty time (or space). As we shall see in Chapter 4 , Kant explicitly denies that we can perceive or experience empty time. (48) See Gottfried Martin, Kant's Metaphysics and Theory of Science, trans. P. J. Lucas (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1955 ), 304. See also Aristotle, Physics IV.1.208a27. (49) Hume insists that the change be perceived in his discussion of an example from Locke in which change is too rapid to be perceived and, therefore, does not give rise to the idea of any interval of time. See T 1.2.3.7; SBN 35. (50) This is noted by Robert McRae, who points out that with this identification Hume differs from most seventeenth and eighteenthcentury thinkers (see The Import of Hume's Theory of Time, 122). (51) See A 177/B 219. (52) See T 1.2.5.1421; SBN 5862. (53) The problem is noted by Johnson, The Mind of David Hume, 1023. (54) For my full analysis of Kant's intuition arguments, which focus mainly on space, see Kant's Transcendental Idealism, 10816.
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(55) This is cited by Hans Vaihinger, Commentar zu Kants Kritik der reinen Vernunft, 2 vols. (Stuttgart: W. Spemann, 188192 ), ii. 223. Vaihinger's citation is referred to by H. J. Paton, Kant's Metaphysic of Experience: A Commentary on the First Half of the Kritik der Reinen Vernunft, 2 vols. (New York: Macmillan, 1936 ), i. 122. (56) In different places, Kant presents two distinct criteria for intuitions: singularity and immediacy. I discuss this matter in Kant's Transcendental Idealism, 801. (57) As Falkenstein notes (Kant's Intuitionism, 427, n. 14), in discussing the infinitude of time Kant seems to equate unboundedness and limitlessness, though he is elsewhere at pains to distinguish bounds [Grenzen] from limits [Schranken]. (58) Kant's own statements regarding the sense in which space and time involve infinity are not always consistent. I discuss some of the discrepancies in Kant's Transcendental Idealism, 11112. I believe that the clearest statement of the Kantian view is not by Kant himself, but by his friend and commentator, J. G. Schulze (or Schulz), Prfung der kantischen Kritik der reinen Vernunft (Knigsburg: Hartung, 1789 ), repr. in Aetas Kantiana (Brussels: Culture et Civilisation, 1968 ), part 2, 412. I provide an English translation of a different version of Schulze's account in The KantEberhard Controversy (Baltimore, Md. and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1973 ), 1757. (59) See ID 2: 399; 392; A 16970/B 21112. (60) This has been argued by Dale Jacquette, Kant's Second Antinomy and Hume's Theory of Extensionless Indivisibles, KantStudien, 84 ( 1993 ), 38 50. (61) This second part is ignored completely by Jacquette (see ibid.).
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